Twice
by Ninazadzia
Summary: Daryl/Michonne. Daryl and I have explored a romantic avenue twice, and only briefly. Beta'd by QuasiOuster.


_**Twice**_

By Ninazadzia

Beta'd by QuasiOuster

* * *

"You're my brother, Daryl."

They probably didn't know Carl and I could hear him, so I made a point to cover his ears while he nestled his head into my chest. We sat motionless in the backseat of the pickup. Carl's breathing had slowed in the last few hours, but even then, I held him rigidly in my lap. The boy was ready to hyperventilate all of a few hours ago. God only knew if a spell came over him.

_But he's one tough kid, Michonne._

I exhaled. Yeah, Carl's strong, but last night? That was something else—and the assault he experienced was just the tip of the iceberg.

I lightly kissed him on the forehead. For as rough as our night was, I was okay. I'd seen that side of Rick before. I'd always known it was there, even if I didn't like it. And I accepted it. I accepted it along with all of his other baggage—Lori's death, Judith's death, Shane's betrayal.

I accepted it all simply because I'd accepted the fact that Rick and I would most likely spend the rest of what little life we had left together. While I still wasn't entirely sure whether my feelings for him were romantic, it seemed likely, if not inevitable; we'd been on the road for weeks after the prison fell. I'd become something of a mother figure for Carl, he became the son I'd never gotten the chance to raise—so that would make Rick my partner, if not my lover. We were stuck together, and I was grateful to have them. The end would come soon anyway, I'm sure, so I might as well not end it alone.

Except now, we've been reunited with Daryl Dixon.

He'd been awfully quiet during his and Rick's conversation. Yeah, he likes to make his words count.

Of course I've considered pursuing a romantic avenue with Daryl. We've even explored that road once, but briefly. And since the fall of the prison, I hadn't entertained the idea again. I presumed him to be dead, or at least that I'd never see him again. It was easier that way. I mourned him, but not any more or less then I did for the others. And then I moved on—or at least I thought I had.

I knew I hadn't moved on when I saw him last night. It wasn't a joyous reunion by any means, given the circumstances; even now, as I sit here and numbly hold Carl, the happiness is only slowly working its way through me. As is the confliction I feel.

So, I hold onto one thought—_worry about it later. _There were much, _much _more important matters at hand than my feelings at the moment. Once we were safe, and hopefully safe and settled in Terminus, I would have time to properly reunite with Daryl. I'd also have time to reevaluate my relationship with Rick. In the very near future, I would have time to think about all of this—but now I didn't.

* * *

Once I was stuck in that crate, I had _plenty _of time to think.

I thought back to that one fleeting incident when Daryl and I had explored _that _avenue, even if it was in a drunken haze. We'd found a cabin while we were out on a run. It'd been a rough couple of days. Winter scared off most of the nearby game, so we'd gone hungry. Judith was sick, and supplies were scarce. To say that our spirits were low would be an understatement.

We'd found a goldmine during that run—food, medicine, and soap, to be precise. So even in the midst of our exhaustion, we celebrated, or rather tried to erase the reality we had ahead of us.

We knew we'd go hungry again. We knew that we were in for a bad winter. So while we were relieved for finding supplies, we still felt the need to drink our sorrows away.

"Never thought I'd taste this shit again," he'd muttered.

I raised my glass. "Not my preferred drink, but I'll take anything right now."

"Amen."

The alcohol felt nice and warm as it coursed through my body. I zipped my jacket higher. The two of us sat on the front porch—the house itself stunk to high heaven, so we sacrificed warmth for fresh air.

From the first sip of Moonshine, I thought of Mike. He was an attorney when I was with him, but he bartended in college—he could always make a mean margarita. But he'd never shut up about his love for Moonshine.

"Mike loved this stuff," I said offhandedly, looking down at the liquid.

"Who's Mike?"

I shrugged in response.

Daryl took another gulp and then cleared his throat. "Lemme guess—he was either your brother or your husband."

"Close. He was my boyfriend."

"When?"

"Before and durin' the breakout, if you really must know," I said. Apparently the alcohol had already worked its way to my brain, since I normally didn't open up like that. Although now that I thought of it, Daryl and I had been unintentionally dropping some personal comments here and there—must've been a side effect of spending so much time together.

But Daryl knew his boundaries. He didn't ask what'd happened to Mike, and I was thankful for that.

"What about you?" I asked, turning to him. "Did you have a sweetheart?"

I'd meant to say it casually, but it came out much, much too seriously for my liking.

"You mean right before shit went down? Naw, no way in hell—I was too much of an asshole then." He laughed. " 'Sides, I've got no game."

I'd snorted. "I doubt that."

He looked me in the eye, and brought the glass to his lips. He took a very long drink, and just stared at me for a minute. I would've interjected, but I waited. It looked like he wanted to say something.

"There was one girl. 'Bout a decade ago." He ran a hand through his hair. "Shit got messy, though."

"What was her name?" I asked.

He didn't even hesitate. "Ree." His words—which had been clear minutes ago—now rolled off of his tongue sloppily. "Toughest broad I'd ever met, least at the time. Was raisin' her brother and sister all by herself. Dad was was missing at the time cause of some nasty drug business, and her mom was sick."

The gears slowly turned in my intoxicated brain. "Kids that age shoulda been able to take care of themselves."

"Naw, they were young. Twelve and six, actually."

"Hm. Those kids musta been a hell of a lot younger than Ree." I gulped down some more Moonshine. "At least assuming she's your age."

"Oh." He cleared his throat, and then took another drink. "Ree was seventeen," And then he added, quite defensively, "Sure as hell didn' act like it. Had a lot of responsibility, was kin' of an old soul." He stroked his beard. "Only thin' givin' away her youth was her face."

I just looked at him. We'd never really discussed age, but he had to be in his late thirties, if not forty. Even though this happened ten years ago, that still meant that he had over a decade on Ree.

"Then is that why it ended?" I asked.

I half expected him not to answer, since Daryl generally didn't like to open up to people either. But he was drunk, and strangely enough, it seemed like he wanted to talk about it. Maybe he'd kept it in for too long.

"Naw, that didn' matter. Two of us were partners, plain and simple. They were struggling to get by, Ree and the kids—I helped 'em out. Got 'em game, firewood, that kinda shit. Fooling around, love, all of that—that didn' come until months later." He'd emptied his glass of Moonshine at this point. He studied it for a minute, and then flung it behind the porch. "_Merle_ happened. He was dealin' back then. Had some unfinished business with her dad—claimed he'd almost informed on him." Daryl shook his head. "So the kids got hurt. After that, Ree didn' want nothin' to do with me."

Making sense of the story was hard at first, but the pieces came together quickly enough. Daryl told me once that he and Merle had been on the road together for close to ten years before the breakout happened. He'd said that they'd met up when Daryl had passed through Ozark Arkansas; Merle had been there on "business," which meant that he had a foothold in America's meth capital. "It got ugly," Daryl had said, flatly, "so we had to leave."

"Ugly" meant that Ree's father—a meth cook himself—was killed after he'd planned to inform on other cooks and dealers. "Ugly" meant that Merle, one of the men he would've outed, had to seek revenge.

"Ugly" meant that Merle assaulted Ree's younger siblings.

I clutched onto my glass. Daryl exhaled slowly, and his breath billowed like smoke.

He wagged a finger in my direction. "Don' ever get me drunk again."

"I won' tell anyone," I tipped my glass in his direction, "If that's what you're worried about."

He sighed. I studied the structure of his face. How rough and ragged he was. Up until recently, things had been pretty good at the prison. Food was plentiful. Supplies were easy to come by. And then winter hit like a bitch; we'd done nothing the last week but hole up like bears gone into hibernation. It'd taken a toll on Daryl, I could tell that much just from looking at him.

But even then, there was something so kind and so familiar about that haunted face.

"Well, I know how much_ I _hate talkin' about my ghosts," I said, "So I'm sorry. You don' need to bring her up again."

He cracked his knuckles, and rolled out his neck. "Hell. Even when you're drunk, you're smart."

I laughed, and he shoved my shoulder.

I passed him some of my Moonshine—he drank it without objection. "If it makes any difference, I'm glad it's you." I cocked my head. "Shit, if I drunk talked to Glenn or Rick about this they wouldn' know what to say."

I nodded slowly. "Anytime, Daryl." I planted my hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "I mean it."

His eyes met mine for a long moment. He'd moved on from Ree, I could tell that much just from his expression—but it was also clear that he really loved her. That in spite of how badly it'd ended and the time that'd passed, he really, really loved her. I knew Daryl well enough now. I knew that he wasn't one to take girls home. He didn't take these things casually.

So when he brought his lips to mine, I also knew that it was a big deal.

I highly doubt that he'd only ever been with one woman. He probably knocked around when he was younger, as most young men do. But it wasn't likely that he'd engaged in something since Ree. He and Carol were sweet on each other, but in the way that old friends or close relatives were. He and Beth had developed a friendship, but he was more of a brother to her than anything. Maggie was unavailable, he didn't really know Sasha, and Andrea—well, he just couldn't stand Andrea.

As for me? I was the new girl. Scratch that, I'd _been _the new girl. Somewhere in between Andrea's death, Merle's death, the Governor's attack on the prison and all of the weeks we'd spent since then looking for him, I lost my mystery. I lost my newness. In its place was a kind of bond that I didn't have a word for, until I heard him use it to describe his relationship with Ree—a partnership.

We helped each other get by. We were matched both physically and emotionally. Depending on each other was never a problem. I didn't need protecting, and he didn't need babying. But we relied on each other. Originally, we were united to kill the Governor. Next, we were united by the compulsion to survive.

And now, it appeared, we were united by companionship.

But there's a fine line between companionship and romance. I'd only thought of Daryl that way fleetingly, if at all. So I knew exactly what I was doing—or at least as much as I possibly could've, given the fact that I was drunk—when I pulled away.

He rested his forehead against mine. We breathed deeply.

"I didn' know you looked at me that way."

He ran a hand through my hair. He pulled back, and gazed into my eyes. "I didn' either."

I tried to think of something to say, but nothing came.

"We need some time to think on it." He moved his hand away. "When we're not drunk," he added.

I nodded. Before the outbreak, I was a lawyer. Eloquence came with the job description. I always knew what to say, in any given situation—except for this one. I stared speechlessly at Daryl Dixon.

Thankfully, he broke the silence.

"We should probably fin' some dinner. The kids mus' be starvin' by now."

I cleared my throat. "Right. Maybe wait until we sober up, though."

He snorted. "I said it once, I'll say it again—you're a smart drunk."

I managed a chuckle in spite of how much my heart was racing. Daryl was exhausted, so I kept pestering him to take a nap until he finally caved. We must've been on that porch for hours before I felt the buzz wear off. When he woke up, the sun was already low on the horizon. "Shoulda woken me up sooner," he grumbled. "It's late."

"We're not too far. If we go fast, we should be back by nightfall."

So we stood up. We started walking, and we maintained our usual distance from each other as we trudged through the woods.

We haven't spoken of it since.

* * *

"Hey."

Daryl looked up. Unlike the others, he hadn't finished his dinner. He kept picking at it, like he hoped that if he'd move it around enough times it would eventually disappear.

Gareth and Mary had served us _enormous _portions. Daryl picked at it for a few minutes before declaring it be venison. "Used to live on this stuff. I'd know it anywhere." The sheer size of the meals confirmed what we'd already suspected: they were going to fatten us up, and then eat us. Based solely on our sprint through the compound, we guess that we'd be sacrificed in some kind of ritual. So when the food arrived, there was a heated debate. Some wanted to feed themselves so they could stay strong and fight, while others wanted to starve and bide time._ If we go hungry, we're weak. But if we're fattened up, we're dead._ Rick, Tyreese, and all of the women decided to gorge themselves—only Daryl and myself abstained.

"Might wanna give your plate to Rick," he said. "Seemed pretty serious about building himself up."

"He's eaten enough for one night." I sat down next to him. "'Sides, their idea is pretty stupid."

He snorted. "You say that to him?"

"Not in that way."

"Well, you should. He'd listen to ya."

"The only reason they haven' slow roasted us yet is because we're still trim. The longer we stay skinny, the longer we stay alive, and the longer we stay alive, the more time we have to figure out a plan."

He looked at me from the corner of his eye. "You don' have to tell me. Again, tell Rick."

"C'mon. He wouldn' listen to me."

"Bullshit."

"He respects my opinion, but I'm not his right hand man." I faced Daryl. _"You _are. You should try to talk some sense into him. Gettin' heated in a debate with him isn't the way to go, and you know it."

He stared at me for a long minute. His face was all scratched up from the previous night, and he looked incredibly gaunt in between the hunger and the fatigue. But there was always that kindness, no matter what the circumstance, in the familiarity of his face.

"I'll try," he said finally. "But only after you talk to him firs'."

"Alright, fine—but why?"

He laughed quietly. "You don' know what you do to him, do you?"

My heart skipped a beat. I tried to answer as levelly as I could, "What do you mean?"

"I see the way he looks at you. Girl, you've got him wrapped aroun' your finger."

"That ain't true."

"Right, because it's not like you two were alone the last couple weeks or anythin'." The sarcasm in his voice was palpable. "I ain't stupid, Michonne. I wouldn' be surprised if you were the new Mrs. Grimes."

I rolled my eyes. "Weren' you with Beth for a while? Because usin' that logic, that would make her 'Mrs. Dixon.'"

He let out an annoyed sigh, but his expression was pained. Clearly it was still too soon to talk about Beth around him. But I was pissed. _I _didn't even know what Rick and I had yet, so why the hell should he?

"I didn' look at Beth like that," he muttered.

And then he looked me right in the eye. He looked at me in the way a man looks at a woman when he's admiring her. And my heart _raced._

This wasn't the right moment to bring it up, and I knew it. But Daryl and I had only spoken briefly since our unhappy reunion three days before. Sure, we were together again, but our time wasn't infinite. The chances of us dying in the next few days were very high.

"I thought about it," I said.

"Bout what?"

_Just say it, Michonne._

I quietly said, "_Not _me and Rick."

He eyed me for a minute. Confusion was visible in his expression. And then after a minute, he slowly said, "You're talkin' about what happened in the cabin, aren't ya?"

"Yeah." I exhaled deeply. "And I'm not drunk either. So if you're ready to talk, let's talk."

"You need to give me a minute, Michonne—"

I snorted. "Really? You've had months, you honestly think that having another minute will make any difference?"

"You're kind of springin' this on me." He groaned, and then ran his hand through his hair. "I thought you were dead, y'know. Convinced it would jus' be me an' Beth runnin' through the woods until one of us was killed off. Spent all that time with Joe after that. Bein' here, and bein' with ya again—I don' even remember what I was thinkin' before shit went down."

I cocked my head. "I know. I don't either."

"So why are we talkin' 'bout it?"

"Jus' thought you might have an answer."

Neither of us said anything for a minute. _This is really how we're going to interact, isn't it?_ When Daryl said that he didn't have any "game" all of those months ago, I hadn't really understood him. Sure, he was surly, and he was rough around the edges—but he was good-looking enough. Only now did I understand what he meant. He didn't know how to handle these things. For as closed-off as I was, Daryl was even worse. He averted the topic of emotions at all costs, and the only ways he would express how he felt was if either a) he was drunk or b) someone heimliched it out of him. Matters of romance were beyond him.

_Except with Ree._

I wondered what it was that made her different. She was struggling to get by, but she was a fighter. She had to raise two kids by herself before she had Daryl's help. Maybe their connection was her way of repaying him. Maybe what they had was created out of necessity, because if he wasn't her partner, she would be weak.

I had Rick. I had Carl. I had close to a dozen other people, all of who were sitting in this crate right now, that I could rely on. I wasn't dependent on him, and he wasn't dependent on me. We spent weeks apart, and we were both still alive.

So that wasn't it. What'd he'd had with Ree, a "partnership"—that wasn't our connection. And I knew _what _our connection was. Our connection was forged during the months we spent looking for the Governor. Our connection was created amidst all of the comfortable silence we shared while we drove back to the prison, trekked through the woods, or cleared a house of Walkers. Our connection was the _emotional _dependence we had on each other, and the need we both felt to _end him. He _killed Daryl's brother, _he _killed my best friend, _he _threatened our home and then proceeded to destroy it. We were bound as much by our hatred for him as we were by our necessity to survive.

But, most importantly, we were bound by our similarities. Surly, aloof, strong, and dry—we were one in the same, and we knew it.

So, as I sat there and looked at him, I knew that I had my answer.

I took his hand in mine. I held it gently for a minute. He turned to face me, his expression surprised. And then I leaned in, and whispered right against his ear, "I'll be your partner, Daryl. Jus' lemme know when you're ready."

Before I pulled away, I planted a very quick kiss on his lips. I didn't waste any time after that. I started to stand up, brush the dirt of my pants, and walk away. But he grabbed my ankle before I could leave.

"Hey," he said. I turned back to face him. He wore a crooked smile. "I didn' know you looked at me tha' way."

I rolled my eyes, and pulled his hand away from my leg. I felt his eyes on my back as I walked all of the way to the end of the crate.

We've explored this road twice, now, and only briefly.

* * *

**A/N: HUGE thanks to the Dixonne genius QuasiOuster for the AMAZING Beta read!**

**I mean to post this maaaaaany weeks ago, but travelling/college stuff/goodbyes/scouting (don't ask) derailed me. I'm SO excited to finally have this one-shot up and running. This is one of the best fics I think I've written in a really, **_**really**_** long time, and I invested a lot of time and effort into this one-shot. I really hope you guys enjoyed it!**

**Love always,**

**Nina**


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